For my entire life, there’s been a voice that has been living in my head, judging every move I make. Every day, I try to keep it at bay as best I can with my defense mechanisms, but it has its ways of coming back from the shadows. Sometimes I almost forget that it’s there, and I’m able to feel somewhat normal; these days are so great, because I feel like I can live my life so freely. But, there are days where I feel this voice like a ten-ton weight in my head, and its presence comes over me whether I like it or not. It is constantly reminding me of one thing, and one thing only: I have anxiety. But now I’m not going to let it make me feel so sorry for myself anymore. Do you know what I have to say now, little voice? I have anxiety, but anxiety doesn’t have me.

I come from a line of people with anxiety, so figuring out different ways to manage it has almost become second nature to me. Over the last year or so, my anxiety has really come to the forefront of my life, and I’ve had to learn how to take each day step by step. The fall semester of this past school year was when I kept feeling like I was drowning; I finally declared my major, my classes were more intense than what I was used to, mix in some extracurricular activities, and I felt like everything was moving at full-speed ahead. I had never really experienced this before, where I constantly kept feeling anxious for more days than not, and I didn’t know what to do about it; the tightness in my chest, the shortness of breath, the pit in my stomach, the usual symptoms were there, yet I have the daily medications to help. Of course my family and friends were there with a listening ear, but it was as though nothing was working enough to help me. I kept saying, “I have anxiety,” and it was as though its iron fists wouldn’t let me go for anything.

But it wasn’t until mid-November where I was assigned a final project for my tutoring in the Writing Center class when I finally got breakthrough I was looking for that entire semester. I finally had the outlet I needed to get to a point where I could feel free, and even months later, I am still kind of grateful to have had this project to keep me from spiraling out of control too much.

This project was fairly open-ended; we were able to focus on something that we were interested in and were able to present it in a way that we thought could best represent our topics. I ended up deciding to focus on my anxiety and how it has affected me during school all these years through a personal essay. This essay served as a kind of therapy that I never had before, and throughout the process of this project over the last few weeks of the semester, it was slow and steady the ways that I felt almost relieved from the iron grips of my anxiety. Also, getting to talk about it openly with my classmates, who had become friends, was so helpful to me. I have never been ashamed to talk about my anxiety, and getting support from these people that I had met a couple months prior and my professor was something that I still can’t help but smile when I look back. English 222 class, I thank you.

Well, all of it is over, and now, as I sit and write these words, I feel empowered all over again about my anxiety and don’t feel bad about myself because of it. The little voice is quiet, for now, and my mental health is a work in progress. I know that I’ll have days where I struggle, and I’ll have times where I won’t be able to control the little voice, but through it all, I’m going to try and remember one thing: I may have anxiety, but anxiety will never have me.